Belgrade

Ah, I feel the ground below me rumble and move and the reflective state comes over me like a familiar tide. Belgrade slips through channels leading to the past, though I sincerely hope it will flow back in the future.

Belgrade was, for a me, a town that echoed with a hum of the familiar; with each step I take westward, with each city I pass through, the geographical and cultural arias  more and more contain melodies that resemble those of my home, and I know I'm getting closer.

There were a few melodies in Belgrade that rung familiar: the architecture contains motifs characteristic of Greco-roman art so popular in much of western Europe (including women in togas and reliefs with laurel wreaths); the people adore their pets, particularly their dogs (I saw one small white lapdog with its ears and tail dyed pink); the number of familiar fast-food chains (McDonalds, Burger King, KFC) that have popped up everywhere.

However, perhaps one of the more subtle melodies was the melody of newness than underlies the city.

Don't get me wrong: Serbia has a long history, with its own prehistoric cultures and times of subjugation and rule. Yet, it's Serbia's last hundred or so years of history that tears down everything that came before. Within that time (the time of two Balkan Wars and two World Wars), the city has been bombed about 70 times, and rebuilt more than 40 times, crumbling into dust those structures that once defined its landscape, its skyline, and its culture (or cultures). The poor attempts of the government at preserving what artifacts remain to Belgrade only encourage the disappearance of Serbia's history under the layers of new brick and stone laid above it.

Belgrade, therefore, despite some of its classically styled buildings, is all fairly modern. Familiar for me, whose country is so young. But Belgrade is unique, too. All cities, I think, have something to teach. Maybe Belgrade teaches people not to be fooled by appearances: what's most important--what a city or who a person truly is--is sometimes buried just below the surface.

Now, I listen to the song of Belgrade fade away, and look forward to hearing the one Zagreb sings.